


In The Alley

by wesleyfanfiction_archivist



Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-05-29
Updated: 2005-05-29
Packaged: 2018-07-12 08:43:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7094758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wesleyfanfiction_archivist/pseuds/wesleyfanfiction_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two damaged hearts discuss the pain of consequences. Just a bit of dialogue. I always wondered where Wesley disappeared to that night….</p>
            </blockquote>





	In The Alley

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Versaphile, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [WesleyFanfiction.net](http://fanlore.org/wiki/WesleyFanFiction.Net). Deciding that it needed to have a more long-term home, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in February 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact the e-mail address on [WesleyFanfiction.net collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/wesleyfanfiction/profile).

Spoilers: For season 3. “Sleep Tight,” through “Tomorrow.”

 

In The Alley

 

“Angel, why did you give Connor to me?”

“*Give*? I never gave my son to you.”

“Actually, you did, if you’ll recall. On that particular evening you were more than anxious for me to take the baby.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Quite remarkable.” Wesley slowly shook his head, regarding the vampire almost wistfully. “Your penchant for selective revisionist history prevails, yet again. Terribly convenient of you to forget that you did, in fact, feel that it was best for me to take Connor. My question remains. Why?” 

Angel gave no response but glanced aside and gazed into the dusty shadows of the alleyway not meeting the other man’s eyes. His attention seemed drawn to a dumpster as his eyes bore holes into its battered side.

“Perhaps if you’d permit me to speculate?” Wesley interjected softly, catching the vampire’s attention. “You were acting somewhat aggressive, were you not?”

“Wolfram & Hart spiked my blood,” he snapped. “I had no idea what was happening to me.”

“Nor did I. Nonetheless, you felt it best that I take Connor. You offered no resistance. You were, in fact, most amenable to the suggestion.”

“For the *day*. I had no idea you were taking him forever. The park. You said you were taking him to the park.”

“Indeed.” He breathed deeply. “A necessary prevarication on my part, I must admit.”

“Necessary! I had no idea that you were stealing my son.”

“But you concede you were acting irrationally, regardless of the reason. Neither of us could have known why. You felt you were a threat to Connor at the time you permitted me to take him, didn’t you?” He fixed the vampire with a steady stare.

“I would *never* harm my son.”

“Didn’t you, Angel?” he repeated without inflection. 

“I would *never*…”

“And if you had?” His words fell to a hoarse whisper. “Had I done nothing and instead ignored the oracle’s portents and you killed your son--”

“They were lies! The prophecy was a lie concocted by Sahjhan.”

“A time traveling demon, one might add, that I possessed no knowledge of prior to my departure that night.”

“To steal my son.”

“Yes,” he admitted softly. “To steal your son.”

Silence fell between them as the impact of the words settled into Wesley’s heart. He betrayed the man who meant more to him than life itself. Ripped his only son from his life and left a seething darkness no light could ever fill. He swallowed hard and studied the shadows in the distance as the minutes slowly passed until Angel’s angry voice brought him back from the turmoil of his thoughts.

“What *were* you thinking? Going off and telling no one! How could you possibly believe I would be a danger to my son?”

“Good lord, man, you said he smelled like food! Was I to stand idly by whilst you devoured your son?” The words flew from his lips. “As a former Watcher, there is no one among us more qualified than I to know how volatile the beast can be, how close to the surface Angelus lies. The others have no idea. Cordy might have understood, but there simply wasn’t time. Would you have me stand by and do nothing while your son’s life was in peril? The omens foretold by the oracle had all come to pass and *time was running out*.”

“You consorted with Holtz.”

“I *never*,” he countered bitterly. “Accuse me of what you will, but never that. I warned him not to touch my family…” The word froze in his damaged throat and he swallowed hard, blinked and averted his gaze, wishing the cool evening air would allay the sudden sting of his eyes. Must be the contacts, he thought angrily, suddenly missing his glasses.

“You should have told me.” The words tore from Angel’s heart. “You should have trusted me, after all these years, after all we’ve been through. We were *family*; you should have trusted me.”

“Funny. One might say the same of you.”

“You’re an arrogant, insufferable prat, who felt that you, and you alone, knew what was best for everyone. It wasn’t your place to decide, Wes. Not for me. Not for Connor. Not for any of us. You went off on your own and allowed yourself to be isolated when we were strong only because we were a team.”

A flush of color burned his cheeks and he found himself at a loss for words.

“You asked me if I wanted to tell him goodbye. How could you say those words to me knowing what you knew? How could you watch me telling my son, ‘sleep tight,’ with no tinge of conscience?” 

“You mustn’t believe me callous, Angel; my decision was not made lightly.” His chest constricted with pain. “If you think my heart wasn’t breaking, you’re sorely mistaken.”

“You’ll forgive me if I find that difficult to accept.”

“I expect I’m hardly in a position to argue the issue of what you perceive my motives to have been. I have only my word to stand as defense.” 

“Your word?” He sneered. “Once it would have been sufficient. Now…” He slowly shook his head. “Now, I’m not sure who you are anymore. I’m not convinced I ever knew.”

*You’re a dead man, Pryce!*

Wesley pulled in his breath as the memory cut deep into his soul. 

Consequences.

The two men fell quiet again, each avoiding the other’s eyes, each lost in the pain of his own mistakes.

“It had to be me, don’t you see?” Wesley’s heartfelt confession cut through the silence and drew the vampire’s attention. “I was the expendable one. Everyone else had *someone*…” the word caught in his throat and he drew a deep breath then continued softly, “Someone to come back to. Don’t you think I realized that whoever took that child, even long enough to thwart the prophecy, was never coming back?”

Angel frowned in confusion.

“I would have sent him back to you, Angel. God, don’t you know that I would have sent him back once the danger was past? But I knew when I left the hotel that night; I would never be allowed to return. Stealing a man’s child…. no man could forgive such an abominable deed. No man should. I knew in my heart you would abhor any one who dared touch that child.”

Angel’s eyes widened with understanding. “Lorne said you were never coming back.”

“I didn’t dare tell the others. Had Gunn or Fred assisted me in any way…” He shuddered at the thought. “They just found…. one another. It hurt; I won’t deny that. But I admonished Gunn to take care of our Fred. I didn’t want to see either of them hurt. I forced Gunn to choose not too long ago where his alliance would be. He gave up *everything* to be with us, Angel. It wouldn’t have been fair to ask him to choose yet again. Not so soon after…after discovering what it was like to truly belong to someone.” A feeling he would never know.

Angel pulled an unneeded breath into his lungs then released it slowly. “You should have protected him.” His attention fell to the gash marring the ex-watcher’s throat. “He was your responsibility.”

“Yes.” Wesley dropped his gaze. “I grant, I should have protected him, and for that I concede fault. Yet had I done nothing…”

“And my son died.”

“You would have died as well.” The former Watcher looked up and searched his ex-friend’s face. “That was a risk I was unwilling to take.” 

“I gave my son to you that night,” he admitted softly. “The way I was feeling, I could think of no safer place to send him than with his…Uncle Wes.”

“And I permitted Holtz to take him.” His hand moved to the scar on his throat, and unconsciously he brushed it with his fingers. “I’m a blundering idiot for having trusted that wretched young woman. I failed Connor and I failed you. I’m so sorry, Angel, I failed the lot of you. But had I not made the attempt…”

“And my son perished…” Angel shuddered, “…at my hand. I would have died as well.”

“It was a risk I had to accept. I was the leader and with the responsibility of leadership one assumes the burden of consequence. I accept your recrimination for the choice I made.” His words faded and he looked away. “The penance is mine to bear.” 

“Maybe so, but you’re only…human,” Angel responded quietly. 

Wesley gasped in surprise and turned back to face his ex-friend. “True. But I failed.”

“And I’ve never failed?”

“Not like this.” He sadly shook his head.

“Far worse, I’d say.”

“But Connor…”

“Is home. My son’s returned to me. He’s changed, yes, but he’s home where he belongs. Now we have forever to make things right and to build our family again.”

“Family,” Wesley whispered the word with quiet reverence as he dropped his eyes. He once had family, too.

“Come home, Wes. Come back to us.”

“*What*…?” He turned to face the vampire; hardly aware the words had been spoken.

“Come home,” he repeated gently. “Connor needs you. There are so many things you can teach him that I can’t. Sure, I can show him how to fight, and I know there are other things that I can show him. Like how to kill things. But you…” His friend paused and met his eyes with a sincere gaze, “…Wes, you can teach him how *not* to kill things.”

Wesley pulled in his breath and held it. It was too much to hope for. He dropped his eyes again, fixing them intently on the toes of his shoes.

*Home*…

Wesley looked up and found himself lost in pools of soft brown. Angel’s gaze had lost the hardened edge of anger and all that reflected back to Wesley was quiet acceptance. Calm. Forgiving. “Angel, I….” His throat tightened around the words as he choked them out. “I don’t deserve…”

“Forgiveness is a gift. I of all people should know that.” The vampire reached out and stunned the ex-watcher by lightly resting a cool hand against the angry slash that marred his pale throat. “I’m not promising that I can forget…that things will ever be the same between us. That would be a lie. But this scar…it represents my son’s life. I understand that now.”

Wesley blinked at a sudden burning in his eyes, and he squeezed them shut against an onslaught of emotion. His breath caught as the cool touch of Angel’s hand became a soft, inquisitive caress. Gently his fingertips traced the still raw edges of the vicious scar. Wesley’s brand of betrayal. A tremor coursed through his body, surprising him with its intensity, and he stepped back, eyes tightly closed, until his back was pressed against the outside wall of a building.

“Wes?”

Cool breath whispered across his cheek, urging him to open his eyes. Was it fear that caused the sudden weakness in his knees or something else? Something he couldn’t quite define? He betrayed this man. The only man who ever truly believed in him. If he dared to open his eyes what would he find in the depths of the stare he felt burning down on him mere inches from his face?

“Wes?”

“Angel…I…” Slowly his eyes crept open, expecting to see the blood red rage of Angel’s face as he lunged at the man, helpless and near death in his hospital bed weeks before. But Angel’s gaze was soft, almost curious, reflecting a hint of the same bewilderment the ex-watcher felt twisting in his gut. “I hardly know what to say.”

Angel rested a finger against his friend’s lips to silence him. “I’ve missed you, Wes. More than I ever felt possible. When you…when you left with Connor without telling me. I felt such rage. You don’t understand; I’ve never trusted anyone the way I trusted you!”

“I know, Angel, and I’m sorry, truly I am. You have no idea how difficult it was to make that decision. Not only the decision to take Connor, but knowing that I…that I’d be losing you…. forever.” His voice cracked and his eyes fell away from the face so close to his own. He tried to force his thoughts from the gentle caress of the fingers stroking the jagged scar on his throat. Tried to control the sudden onslaught of thoughts battling for attention in his harried brain. Once the epitome of structured thought, this mind had become a jumble of confusion and mush all because of an act of pure kindness and a curious caress. “Angel…?”

“Hush.” Cool fingers trailed over the damaged throat and showed no signs of withdrawing their soothing touch as the minutes stretched into a bewildering silence that grew around the two men lingering in the darkened alleyway.

The raging of Wesley’s heart rose filling his ears, and he fought to still the trembling of his legs that threatened to give way beneath him. He pushed against the wall, bricks digging into his back to keep from slipping to the ground. Angel had never touched him in such a strangely intimate way, but the simple act caused Wesley’s breath to hitch in his throat, and heat to flush his cheeks. 

Forgiveness was a gift he never thought to receive. A gift he did not deserve. But this…this touch….

He looked up into the face of the man whose quest for redemption was Wesley’s sole obsession for so many years, an obsession that left him empty and cut adrift without hope or purpose when that man sought to take Wesley’s life, his worthless existence smothered beneath the degradation of a pillow. A traitor’s death, undeserving of even the dignity of a cleanly snapped neck. He deserved that act of retribution, but now, Angel’s eyes held only acceptance, acceptance and something that confused the ex-watcher even more than the bewildering sensations coursing though his body. “Angel, I don’t under--”

“Come back to us.” Angel leaned near, barely brushing the astonished man’s lips with his own. “Come back…to me.”

Wesley gasped in shock, his mind fighting to make sense of what just happened. Surely this was a dream. A fantasy like many others he allowed himself to indulge in these past few lonely weeks. Surely, Angel did not ever-so-gently touch his lips to Wesley’s mouth that even now lay open, parted in astonishment. Had he dreamed of such a moment? In all the years he worshiped the vampire, steadfast and loyal, had Wesley ever considered that his own feelings might run deeper than friendship? His pale cheeks grew crimson at the thought. Yes. He had considered such a thing. Buried deep within his loneliness. Something unspoken. Something no man dares to think of another man….

Angel dipped his head and lightly pressed his lips to the gash embellishing the Englishman’s throat. A moan escaped the Watcher’s chest and he threw back his head, hitting the solid wall with a thump as his knees continued to weaken and he started to slip.

“Wesley.” Angel grabbed his arms, supporting him against the bricks, and pressed his mouth to his friend’s ear. “I’m asking you to come home. I’m telling you that I need you. In ways I didn’t realize until you were gone. You’re family, Wes. *My* family.”

Wesley couldn’t speak as his legs finally gave way beneath him and he found himself collapsing, the world dissolving around him as he fell into a pair of strong, outstretched arms that rose to claim him…

*Family*….

 

******

 

Wesley blinked and his vision cleared as the fantasy faded. His mind had indulged in yet another embarrassing flight of fancy that left him flushed and empty as he stood trembling in the alley outside the dance club. Pressing his hand against the wall to support his weakened knees, he squinted though the dim, beyond the dark alleyway where he lingered in the shadows and watched the two, father and son, sparing in the distance. The rhythm of their movements, the precision of their syncronized skills, was mesmerizing to the former Watcher as he lingered in the darkness doing what he did best. Watching. Dreaming….

Connor had returned.

When Wesley saw the young man fighting at his father’s side in the club, he knew at once who he was. His heart leaped in his chest, though his stoic face betrayed no outward emotion for Lilah to capitalize on. He had to get out of the close confines of the sweltering crowd, into the cool air of the alley, and away from Wolfram & Hart’s lackey. The bitch. To savor the revelation alone.

Angel’s son had returned.

They saved Justine tonight. What bitter irony. He swallowed hard as a memory burned across his throat. *We help the helpless*. First Faith now Justine. The sting of his throat mingled with an older memory – the grinding of a leather-clad crotch against his, the slash of glass glistening crimson, the stirring of arousal despite the pain. Tokens of remembrance carved into the landscape of his chest and now his throat…

Pastries offered as retribution for a night of torture.

The helpless indeed.

It wasn’t hard to see where Angel’s alliance rested even then. But Wesley played the buffoon, refusing to see that his pain held no meaning for the vampire and never would. Blaming himself for his weakness as he lay awake that night unable to sleep for the pain screaming though his body, cuts still bleeding through the plasters on his chest, fooling himself that Angel would care when he saw his battered state the next morning, one eye swollen shut…

Only to find the Rogue Slayer settled comfortably into the office, in Angel’s bed, no less….

Was it really so different than the pain he felt after Justine left her jagged signature across his soul for the sake of Angel’s son, and the vampire, yet again, proved his blood had no meaning….

Crimson seeping into an unfeeling ground. His life’s blood crying out from the earth to those he loved and trusted…

Now, Connor had returned.

Would father and son fight the ‘good fight’ together now, without need of a fallen Watcher’s aid, one faithful servant torn asunder from an alliance that never really needed him in the first place? The fluidity of the duo’s movements as they battled side-by-side in the club was more reminiscent of a dance than a life-and-death struggle for survival as they fought the forces of darkness. Together.

Angel’s son had returned.

The child was back with his family were he belonged.

*Family*…

Wesley took a faltering step back, farther into the shadows that rose to claim him. He once had family, too… 

Or so he believed.

*Never return to the hotel. Angel will kill you.*

He turned and walked away.

 

The End


End file.
